


put on a slow, dumb show for you and crack you up

by darkmagicmike



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, This was intended for quiobi week but i twiddled my thumbs too long, sex pollen played straight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 11:56:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15314973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkmagicmike/pseuds/darkmagicmike
Summary: "What do you want to do, Obi-Wan?”“Oh, master.  For one, I’d like to fall in love with you,” said Obi-Wan.





	put on a slow, dumb show for you and crack you up

**Author's Note:**

> There's no required listening for this fic but do consider giving Slow Show by The National a go.

Qui-Gon’s former padawan was in the Temple again, and more urgently, in the Halls of Healing. 

 

That the news reached Qui-Gon through padawan gossip - and not even his current learner - could say something about his relationship, or lack thereof,  with Obi-Wan Kenobi. But it wouldn’t, not if he had any say in this. 

 

In the years since Naboo, since Obi-Wan’s knighthood, since Qui-Gon’s own brush with death, his former apprentice had practically disappeared.  Some of it was simply how the life of a new knight turned out - if the Trials were pushing them out of the nest, then those first few years of knighthood were spent sending Jedi knights on missions to get them used to flying. 

 

But it also seemed as though Obi-Wan avoided his former master.  Oh, he had sat by Qui-Gon’s bedside the whole time he slept, healing deep in the Force.   Not that the knight himself had told his former master such. Qui-Gon had awoke to a training bond stretched gossamer thin and the ghost of his apprentice lingering in the air.  

 

It was the thin bond lingering between the two that allowed Qui-Gon to hope, to feel that they might reconcile.  But the last time they met had been the day Qui-Gon officially accepted Anakin as his padawan, fourth in a many varied lineage.  

 

Qui-Gon rushed towards the Hall of Healing.  

 

“Qui-Gon,” said Mace, catching up with the other master.  “There’s no need to hurry.” 

 

“Good morning, Mace,” said Qui-Gon, not breaking his stride.  Mace Windu may be the head of the Order, and one of Qui-Gon’s oldest  _ surviving  _ friends, but nothing could stop Qui-Gon Jinn from seeing Obi-Wan for the first time in years.   Especially if he was hurt. “Is the council’s session already done for the day?” 

 

Except - a hand on his elbow stopped Qui-Gon.  He turned, the only thing staying him from saying something cutting was the fact that Mace had been there from, from when he awoke after Naboo.  Mace, keeping his hand on Qui-Gon’s elbow, pulled the two of them out of the main thoroughfare of the Temple and into an offshoot hallway. 

 

It had been Mace who told him that Qui-Gon would get what he wanted - Anakin as a padawan, not right away, but when they were both ready.  Mace who helped Qui-Gon to pack up Obi-Wan’s things in their shared quarters. The newly-made knight had not returned to the Temple in months, and it would be months more before he did return.  It was Mace who said nothing when Qui-Gon refused to turn his former apprentice’s possessions to the Quartermaster. No admonishment about the Code and attachment, just a quiet understanding.

 

(And wasn’t that always a sticking point - were those thin stretched threads of a bond still there because of Qui-Gon’s own attachment?  Was he, a Jedi master, unable to define his self without including Obi-Wan Kenobi in the definition? 

 

Unbidden, he remembered a moment where Dooku had, in an attempt to stop Qui-Gon from adopting a small mammal, told his apprentice that to hold a precious thing too close was too strangle it.) 

 

It was that support, in the end, that reminded Qui-Gon of the necessity of reaching out - for help.  

“Before you go see Obi-Wan,” because there was no question that Qui-Gon was headed to do so, “there’s something you need to know.” 

 

“Force, he’s not dying, is he?”  If he were, Qui-Gon would know - or should know, at least.  

 

“No, no.”  Mace shifted to grip both of Qui-Gon’s hands. “You have to know that the Council, that I would give you a warning if something were deadly wrong with Obi-Wan?” 

 

And Qui-Gon did know this, logically. Emotionally, however…

 

“I wasn’t given notice at all,” said Qui-Gon, defensive. “I’ve asked to handle his missions before, and been turned down - many times.” 

 

Mace grimaced. “I’m not here to re-open that debate.  No. We didn’t want to worry you, unjustly, about Obi-Wan’s condition.   He had a reaction to… local fauna that has left him with lowered control.   We had to isolate Obi-Wan after he started reading Yoda the riot act in front of a group of younglings.” 

 

At that, Qui-Gon laughed.  His shoulders relaxed, his grip on Mace’s hands lessened. “Is that all?” 

 

Years of acting the perfect padawan to Qui-Gon’s own maverick tendencies had allowed everyone to forget the spitfire initiate Kenobi.  

 

“Just… tread carefully.”  

 

“I always do,” said Qui-Gon, pulling away to head towards his former apprentice.  For all the ups and downs of their apprenticeship, Obi-Wan had earned Qui-Gon’s undying trust, amongst many other things.  

 

“And remember that you need to update your network.”  Mace called out after Qui-Gon. The Jedi master said nothing in return, simply holding up the bag he carried with him.  

 

Entering the Halls of Healing,  Qui-Gon paused - always, always he acknowledged the ever present sense of pain and suffering that hung in the Force there.  Unbidden, it called to the remains of Qui-Gon’s Sith-inflicted wound. Like would always reach out to like, suffering would always try to beget more suffering.   

 

It was the duty of a Jedi to stop that cycle.

 

Other beings bustled past him, no longer gawking.  Years of being Temple-bound had worn on his mystique.  One of the initiates from a meditation class he taught the year prior pressed against Qui-Gon for a moment, smiling up at him, before being chivvied on.  His mystique never stood up to the image of Qui-Gon Jinn, maverick master, showing up around the Temple with a small initiate climbing on his shoulders. Now he was Master Jinn who regularly had tea with Vokara Che and taught philosophy to the younglings. 

 

(He was also Master Jinn who snuck treats to the younglings.  That was in some ways the most important part of his reputation.) 

 

The Force, and a helpful padawan, led Qui-Gon to one of the observation rooms in the back of the hall.  He caught Bant Eerin as she gently shut the door Obi-Wan’s room. Her laughter was the familiar peal of bells in the Force, something well missed in the time after Tahl’s death.

 

“Qui-Gon, I’m going to leave Obi-Wan in your capable hands,” said Bant, this time laughing out-loud.  

 

“How is he?” asked Qui-Gon.  The room was shielded, to protect patients from each other and the other Jedi around them.   Obi-Wan, with their bond stretched as only a thread between them, was a muted presence behind the door and in Qui-Gon’s mind.  Qui-Gon gleamed nothing more than the fact that he lived. 

 

“Embarrassed, when he has the chance to be,” said Bant. “It’s good to see some of the real Obi-Wan behind the knight, though.  Will you be letting Anakin visit him?” 

 

“I don’t think I could stop Anakin,” said Qui-Gon, ruefully.   In the months of recovery following Naboo, he burned through most of his favors arranging teachers for Anakin - doing his best to coordinate the child’s assimilation into the Order.  A quick request to the Queen’s handmaidens had saw his mother released from slavery and allowed to settle where she wished. 

It hadn’t taken much to convince Bant to come to Naboo.  Later, she admitted that she had already been on her way - at Obi-Wan’s request.   Before Qui-Gon could ask, she took her friend’s brother-padawan under her wing, so to speak.   They spent hours together, on Naboo and in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, swimming - or in Anakin’s case, trying to swim.  It had taken much, much longer to bridge the gap between Obi-Wan’s crechemate and Qui-Gon. 

 

She was willing to, though, provide Qui-Gon news of his former padawan - when their paths happened to cross. 

 

“Nor, do I want to stop Anakin.  They’re brother-padawans, they should be together,” continued Qui-Gon.  

 

“Please, record that - I need the blackmail after what Obi-Wan has from my knighthood bar crawl.”  

 

Qui-Gon laughed and held a hand up.  “I don’t want to know. But, let me go ahead and see my padawan.” 

 

“Of course,” said Bant, bowing slightly.  “He wants to see you.” 

 

Qui-Gon paused, surprise rocking him.  That was… unexpected. Bant shook her head, brushing by Qui-Gon, and leaving him alone at the door.   Standing there woolgathering did nothing for him, though, so Qui-Gon slipped into the room. 

 

“Master Qui-Gon,” said Obi-Wan, bolting upright from his relaxed position.  He smiled as though the sun had finally risen after a long night. “I didn’t think you’d come!” 

 

Little gods.   _ Remember that his inhibitions are low.  _

 

“Of course I would.”  Qui-Gon crossed the room in three strides, feeling each movement deep in his bones.  He reached down, without thinking, to cup his former padawan’s jaw. Obi-Wan leaned into the touch.   Sometime, before and after his knighting, Qui-Gon’s padawan had grown into himself - full of light and breath-takingly beautiful.  “Surely you know nothing could stop me from seeing you, Obi-Wan, for the first time in what feels like years.” 

 

Obi-Wan frowned. “I didn’t know.” 

 

Qui-Gon’s heart broke.  He sank down into the chair next to Obi-Wan’s bed.  All these years later, the ghost of Xanatos still hung over them.  No, the ghost of his own mistakes - Xanatos was responsible for his own actions, not his master’s.  Qui-Gon blew a slow breath out of his nose, seeking a temporary grounding in the Force. That type of conversation was one best left for a time when they were both sober.  Better to support Obi-Wan in whatever way he wanted, however he would allow. It wasn’t enough, but it was more than years of short holovids and letters. 

 

“I would,” said Qui-Gon.  He reached out, intending to squeeze Obi-Wan’s hand once.  The moment their hands touched, Obi-Wan’s latched around his - holding on like Qui-Gon were an anchor in the storm.  Qui-Gon squeezed back and smiled. “There is nothing that could stop me from being here for you, Obi-Wan. I hear you had a bit of an… argument with my grandmaster.” 

 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.  “It was nothing you haven’t done before.  You just choose to do it in front of the Council, instead of a group of younglings.” 

 

“Clearly you missed the one class on philosophy that Master Yoda and myself jointly led.  I think there are vids of it somewhere - it was truly an interesting class,” said Qui-Gon, laughing.  That memory, Yoda’s reaction when Qui-Gon outright told a group of younglings that feeling fear and anger was fine, was something he knew that he would take with him until Qui-Gon rejoined the Force. 

 

Weirdly, instead of making Obi-Wan laugh, and that was all that Qui-Gon intended to do, it made him frown and look away.  Obi-Wan shifted their hands, rubbing his thumb against the back of Qui-Gon’s hand. A sad note rang out in the Force. Under the effects of the pollen, the man hadn’t became an open book but it was perhaps the easiest to read Obi-Wan that it had been in years. 

 

There was a long silence, one that Qui-Gon was loathe to break.  He knew, at the very base of his being, his former padawan. Knew that Obi-Wan was a fiercely private man.  Despite what Mace said, the knight had not been placed in this room to protect the emotional states of the Council.  Whatever they discussed, Qui-Gon wanted to do his best to allow Obi-Wan to lead.

 

“Master, I’m sorry,” was what Obi-Wan eventually said.  

 

“You’re in your wilderness years, Obi-Wan,” said Qui-Gon, wanting to reach out and touch the other man - more than just holding his hand. So he did. Gently untangling their hands, Qui-Gon reached out to brush a lock of hair away from Obi-Wan’s face. “It’s expected that a new knight will spend some time gallivanting across the galaxy.  It’s the point.” 

 

“No, well, yes, I’m also sorry about that,” said Obi-Wan, drawing in a shuddering breath.  He paused. It was clear he was wrestling with the chemicals circulating his body - wrestling with what he was pushed to say.  

 

Despite the effects of the pollen, their bond stretched between the two Jedi - silent but there. 

 

“Obi-Wan,” said Qui-Gon, forcefully.  The knight turned to face him. In this moment, Qui-Gon finally saw the stress lining his former padawan’s face. “You don’t have to talk about this, if you don’t want to.  I’ve been in similar situations - I once delivered a scathing monologue to Dooku under the influence of a particular liquor - if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.  I’m happy to just be here, with you. I have missed you.” 

 

Obi-Wan was silent, looking at Qui-Gon with an expression he almost recognized.  It was similar to the expression the knight had on Bandomeer, all those years ago.  The realization that he, specifically, mattered to Qui-Gon Jinn. But something had changed during those wilderness years.  This was no longer the man that Qui-Gon knew like he knew himself - not entirely the same. However, Qui-Gon was also not the man he was before Naboo.  

 

“I still want to, but… maybe not right now.  I know what the pollen is doing to me; I’m not a fool,” said Obi-Wan.  He grasped Qui-Gon’s hand and flopped back on the bed, shoulders sagging from exhaustion.  “There  _ are  _ so many things I want to do, though.  Did you know the Council is grounding me for five tendays?” 

 

“How hard must it be, to be told to take a vacation.  Why would they ever ground you, knight-mine?” asked Qui-Gon, squeezing Obi-Wan’s hand once.  He felt, for a moment, that they were moving into new territory. By the time that Feemor became his apprentice, the man was already set in his ways - truly on the edge of becoming a knight in his own right.  He had not needed the guiding presence of a master the same way a child would. Obi-Wan, and Xanatos - to an extent, had. Qui-Gon’s own experiences couldn’t have prepared him for how it would be to navigate any sort of relationship once his former apprentice became a knight.  

 

Dooku had, to say the least, firmly shut Qui-Gon out - until Dooku believed that Qui-Gon was ready, regardless of his own opinion.  

 

The only thing Qui-Gon could do was to trust in the Force and be ever steady in pushing on towards the future.  

 

“Master Windu thinks I’m becoming too reckless, too unmoored,” said Obi-Wan, snorting. It wasn’t like Obi-Wan had asked for a string of missions to go south, and quickly at that.  He changed tracks. “If they hadn’t grounded me, I would’ve taken respite time regardless. There’s so much I want to do.” 

 

The last sentence was delivered so softly and so full of feeling that Qui-Gon’s heart ached. “What do you want to do, Obi-Wan?” 

 

“Oh, master.  For one, I’d like to fall in love with you,” said Obi-Wan.  That soft look was back. 

 

For a moment, everything stopped.  Qui-Gon felt the universe ready to pivot around this point.  It wasn’t, however, an entirely unwelcome sentiment. He remembered the moment Obi-Wan arrived for Anakin’s padawan ceremony, mere seconds from being late. Obi-Wan had wandered in, sauntered truly, clad in civilian clothes and cocksure.  A powerful wave of want tore through Qui-Gon, then. One that he shoved down - to be examined at a later moment. Instead, Qui-Gon had rushed across the room, steps behind Anakin, to embrace his former padawan. 

 

Apparently, that later moment had come now. 

 

Something in his expression must have pushed Obi-Wan to keep talking, rolling over the conversation like he thought Qui-Gon would shut him down. “I’ve wanted to, for so long now, but I kept putting it off.  I still have the forms with me, the ones for working as a knight-pair that I know you know about, but after you - you just wanted to take Anakin on as your padawan, so I just thought that you were letting me know that you weren’t interested anymore. But, Anakin has comm’d me at least five times in the last three tens to catch up and tell me about how you’re doing and I just -” 

 

Forgetting himself in his deep, driving need to explain his actions, years old now but an open wound between the two, Qui-Gon leaned forward. “No, Obi-Wan.  That was never my intention. I was never the best master for you, never able to completely exorcise my own ghosts. You were ready for your Trials a year before Naboo, at least.  When we found Anakin, the Force was practically screaming in my ear - telling me that it was time to let go.” 

 

The look Obi-Wan shot his former master could have stripped the paint off a cruiser from meters away.  He looked ready to rip his former master a new one, ready to deliver some truth that, as Qui-Gon knew, would be right, but he held back.  At that he paused, frowning and then said, “I think it’s wearing off,  _ finally _ .” 

 

“Oh,” said Qui-Gon.  He felt the world turn on its side, the familiar solid ground of the Force slanted - no longer bolstering him like fertile ground for deep roots.  “Obi-Wan, I…” 

 

“Little gods.  That was not how I wanted that conversation to go,” said Obi-Wan, one hand coming up to cover his eyes. “Not how I planned, at all.” 

 

“You planned?” asked Qui-Gon, his mouth dry. “I never thought.  Stars, Obi-Wan, I thought you hated me, after everything that happened.”  

 

At that, Obi-Wan laughed and laughed.  He felt more in control than he had been for hours, despite the emotional outburst. “Do you really think, after everything, that I could hate you?  That I would not forgive you? I know you, Qui-Gon Jinn. I’ve wanted you for longer than I’ve known.” 

 

Instead of falling back on his familiar dry humor, Qui-Gon studied his former padawan.  “You do know me. Perhaps, you know me the best out of anyone alive.” 

 

And wasn’t that just the statement for the decade? 

 

Qui-Gon kept to what he did best, forging on. “I don’t think I deserve your forgiveness, not wholecloth as it is.  But it’s not my place to decide that for you - it never has been, Obi-Wan.” 

 

“No,” said Obi-Wan, agreeing with his former master.  “You’ve always allowed me my opinion - especially when we disagree.”

 

Qui-Gon’s eyes closed.  He returned, wry, “your wilderness years seem to have sharpened your wit.”  

 

Qui-Gon heard rustling from the bed.   When he finally opened his eyes, he saw Obi-Wan, legs dangling off the bed and smiling at him again, soft and beatific - not under the influence of the plant this time.  

 

“I had a lot of time to think about things.  I had forgotten, it’s been so many years since that trip to Bandomeer, I had forgotten how lonely it is to travel on your own.  It gave me so much time to think about you, and me, and what I wanted from our relationship.” 

 

Qui-Gon slowly reached out, telegraphing his every move because it was different this time, and cupped Obi-Wan’s jaw.  He ached to hear, again, that his former apprentice had been lonely - that he had ever thought that Qui-Gon would not be there for him in a heartbeat, if possible.  

 

“I wanted to do this differently.  I wanted to romance you. For us to cook dinner together again and drink tea, to take over the training salles,”  Obi-Wan said. His hand came up, covering Qui-Gon’s. “You deserve that, and so do I.” 

 

“Who said we can’t do that, my knight?” asked Qui-Gon, smiling.  “I’ve heard, from a good source, that you’re grounded in the Temple for five tendays.  I just happen to have a padawan who is not ready for off-planet missions.” 

 

Obi-Wan laughed, again, bright as a sun in the Force.  Still the spitfire Qui-Gon had known for years. Teasing, he pulled Qui-Gon up from the chair and looked up at his master.  “You still haven’t told me if you want me or not, Master.” 

 

“I’m not your master anymore,” said Qui-Gon, serious. “When you came back for Anakin’s padawan ceremony and I saw you standing there, your hair already growing out.   You looked like the cocksure, experienced knight that I have always, always known you would be. I was almost knocked over in that moment with how much I wanted you.” 

 

Obi-Wan breathed in.  “I didn’t notice.” 

 

“I was doing my best to not let anyone know,” said Qui-Gon wryly.  “Everyone knows that my relationship with my master wasn’t standard - and his relationship with Komari… is better left to the past.  Anakin noticed, though. Not how much I wanted you, but how much I missed you.” 

 

“He told me.  That’s what we talked about after the ceremony.  How cool I was and how much you missed me. It was quite the confidence boost, at least the first part.”  

 

“I’d trust your brother-padawan, then,” said Qui-Gon.  He reached for those familiar, dearly cherished threads of gossamer connecting him to Obi-Wan and pressed all his love, all his want and desires through - hoping that some of it would reach his former apprentice.  

 

With anyone else, the way the bond lit up in response and deepened would be a miracle.  With Obi-Wan, it was just another sign of just how phenomenal the man was. 

 

“You honor me,” murmured Qui-Gon.  He didn’t bother to hide his emotions in response to this new bond: awe, happiness, and a deep well of love. 

 

“As much as you honor me,” said Obi-Wan, tilting his head back to smile up at his former master.  

“Obi-Wan, if you’d permit me to, I’d like to fix one more of my mistakes,” said Qui-Gon.  His hands slid to rest on Obi-Wan’s shoulders. 

 

“For you, Qui-Gon? Anything,” said Obi-Wan.  Even a child half-blind to the Force would have been able to read the currents in the room.  And Qui-Gon had been willfully ignorant before, but never blind. 

 

Qui-Gon’s hands came up to cradle his face as he leaned down and finally, finally kissed Obi-Wan.  Once, for a moment, twice, for a moment, and a third time, lingering as Obi-Wan wrapped Qui-Gon’s hair around his hand.  Time stretched between them as Obi-Wan deepen the kiss, seeming as if centuries passed in no time at all. 

 

Qui-Gon pulled away, regretfully. He rested his forehead against Obi-Wan’s, unwilling to move further away and listened to the Force. “Anakin’s lessons have just finished - he’s on his way.” 

 

“I didn’t realize how much I would miss him.  He’s like a light in the Force and I’m drawn to it.” 

 

“It’s like that for me, as well.”   _ It’s like that with you. _

 

“We’re not done here,” said Obi-Wan, untangling his hands from Qui-Gon’s hair.  “But I’d hate for Anakin to walk in on us necking like teenagers.”

 

“We’d never hear the end of it,” agreed Qui-Gon, settling back into the chair.  

 

A comfortable silence settled between the two of them.  There was much left to be said between them, but there would be time.  Instead, Qui-Gon struck up a conversation about Obi-Wan’s latest mission - just how had his former padawan ended up dosed with alien pollen? 

 

Words flowed easily between the two of them for the first time in years. 

 

Their conversation was interrupted only when Anakin crashed into the room, followed by Vokara Che.   The healer greeted Qui-Gon quietly as Anakin talked a mile a minute, Obi-Wan laughing and answering Anakin’s questions just as fast.  

 

The future felt open - anything was possible.  But first - they were going to eat dinner together as a group for the first time in years.


End file.
